Seduction
by apsara
Summary: Mina and Kenneth...mostly Mina...are throwing the Christmas bash of the century. It's unclear, however, if any of their friends will make it to the party. Four little vignettes. Not gonna lie, these are fluffy/cheesy as hell. AU, Senshi/Shitennou.
1. Seduction: Author Note

**Seduction: Author's Note**

*hides* Okay, so it's been 6 years since I've written anything. 6 years since I left you hanging without a Minako/Kunzite conclusion to this story!

I felt the only way to make up for it would be for me to add more gratuitous smuttiness to this story – from the first chapter to the last – and I have spent some time revising and significantly each couple's story. Readers, be warned. There is a lot that you will remember, if you've read these stories before (or not, since it's been ages…) – but there is a lot of new material as well. It's not thaaaat ba, but that new material is why this story is now rated Mature…please use your discretion, kids!

On a more serious note, I want to let you guys know that I never stopped loving and reading Sailormoon fanfiction, especially of the senshi/shitennou variety. Life just got in the way, as it usually does…but I was inspired, so I hope you guys enjoy this :)

Please read and review – let me know what you think! Mako/Neph first, then Ami/Zoi…and later, I'll put up Rei/Jade and Minako/Kunzite – which are both 100% complete.

All the usual disclaimers apply. Nothing in these stories is mine except for the plot – Sailormoon and any other copyrighted property belong solely to their respective holders.


	2. Seduction: Fruitcake

Starting off with some seasonally good times…Mako and Neph.

**Seduction: Part #1 – Fruitcake**

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"Lita?"

The heavy front door creaked open, ushering in a chill gust of wind and snow that further tangled his chestnut curls. Small crystals of the stuff clung to his skin before melting.

Nikolas ungraciously kicked the door shut, locking out the ugly weather. He peeled his damp peacoat from his broad shoulders, casually brushing frost off the cashmere as he entered the warmth of their living room.

Chocolate. Bourbon chocolate. Red velvet. Nik surveyed their furniture ruefully; nearly every flat surface was infested with…cupcakes. Their familiar, sweet odor assaulted him. For a guy who never ordered dessert after dinner, only double espresso or cognac, his apartment smelled like this far too often. _Most men would envy you, and not just for the cupcakes,_ he reminded himself smugly. _Speaking of…_

"Baby, are you ready to go? I told Kenneth we wouldn't be late to his, uh – " Nik grinned a little crookedly to himself, " – thing." _Can't believe he let Mina talk him into it at all._

There was no response, and in the next few moments, Nikolas immediately heard why. Muted strains of "Winter Wonderland" drifted richly in from the kitchen, Lita's own honeyed-husk voice crooning just above Tony Bennett's. Obviously, she couldn't hear him. _She's probably serenading Nigella with an eggbeater._

He grabbed a chocolate cupcake on his way to the kitchen. Nik didn't love dessert, true, but who was he to resist a masterpiece? Dark ganache warmed to the roof of his mouth, melted smoothly around his tongue, and he thought of _her flavor after a little too much scotch, complex and muddy and sweet, giggling throatily as they swayed and stumbled into a cab, her back hitting the seat just as the door slammed shut._ As silently as he could manage, he padded towards his wife's domain, breathing in…

…

The tempting fragrance of mixed walnuts, pecans, Valrhona dark chocolate, cinnamon, and macerated cherries tickled Lita's nose as she poured brandy liberally over the mixture. She paused, gave the bowl a skeptical look, and – _why the hell not?_ – added a few more glugs. Setting the mostly empty bottle down, Lita gently stirred the liquid in, careful not to tear the chopped fruits.

She always cooked by hand and instinct, feeling her way through a recipe written behind her eyelids.

_I mean, it probably helps that I drink myself into a stupor throughout the entire creative process,_ Lita decided contentedly, tipping back what was left of the brandy and wiping her lips with the back of her hand. _I'm Irish; it's practically my duty._

Lita lifted the bowl close to her face, inhaling the resultant perfume, awash in chocolate and pungent spice. It reminded her of his ambered cologne, of his gentle hands cupping her face and his less gentle teeth dragging out her lower lip.

Cooking, she knew, generally conjured up unflattering visions of frazzled housefraus with flyaway hair. Not so for Lita. Whatever she baked, braised, or flambéed, it always emerged generously and surprisingly flavored. She always tended toward too much salt, heaping lumps of butter, substituting bourbon for vanilla. Great, greedy gulps of the burgundy she'd used in the _boeuf bourguignon_ to slake her thirst as she watched steam curl up lazily from the pot. Her cooking was sensual in its excess, and she always felt no less in her kitchen, able to elicit moans and sounds of delight with merely the food she created. Lita cooked like…

"_You cook like you make love," he told her with nonchalant certainty as they lay sprawled in her bed, long limbs sheened with sweat._

_Lita propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at him with consternation. "Um. What is that supposed to mean?"_

_He'd blurted out the confident comparison without thinking about where it came from, but really, it actually made a hell of a lot of sense. Nik reached up to play with a russet curl, watching it turn red as he twisted it toward the sunlight. His movements were deceptively lazy. In an instant, he curled his hand around his girlfriend's nape, pulling her head back down to the pillow as he flipped her onto her back. Lita's startled gaze flew up to meet his._

"_You always want to try something new. You'd never in a million years let me tell you what to do. And," Nik smiled wolfishly, bringing his face low, so that his lips just brushed hers, "you always, _always_ want more."_

"He might have a point," she muttered to herself, glad he wasn't there to see (and take advantage of) her blush. Lita swayed unconsciously to the old song, one blood red sleeve slipping for the hundredth time over her smooth shoulder. She'd be dancing like this with him tonight, she hoped. Pressing her cheek to his chest, hearing the baritone of his laughter in her hair, feeling his hands slide just south of propriety and pull her up against the length of him…somewhere a timer went off, and Lita blinked, suddenly aware of her surroundings, but not entirely.

Almost dreamily, she danced her way over to the small ball of dough awaiting her expert touch.

…

Melting-dark eyes widened as Nik gripped the wall with increasingly bloodless knuckles. He watched his wife work, her movements fluidly sure. Her smell was of sun-warmed, shamelessly open roses, dusted with an ever-present and unexpectedly innocent smattering of flour. It was just like her.

The dark red thing he'd given her for her birthday (_he liked how the claret color smoothed her skin ivory, set her hair aflame – but really, he loved her flushed disbelief when he told her that redheads looked beautiful in red)_ cleaved tenderly to her lean arms and rounded hips, hugged her thighs to the knee. Lucky for him, Mina possessed exceptionally good taste. The long, demure sleeves were the exclamation mark, he knew, to the generous cleavage in front and nearly indecent expanse of flesh at the back. The latter was proving quite the tease for Nik, as the zipper dangled just below the small of her back. His fingers itched to curl over the fine wool and pull, to expose just a bit more of that lightly gold-freckled skin.

_Leave it to her to leave a dress like that half-zipped, practically falling off, shoes kicked off…to spend her last few minutes in front of the stove instead of the mirror._

Nikolas felt flame coiling up his belly, jeans growing uncomfortably tight as Lita's fingertips sank aggressively into the pliant dough, reminding him entirely too much of something else altogether.

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Lita caught her breath harshly as she kneaded the yielding mash of marzipan and floury paste. The tiniest of smiles graced her lips as she remembered her palms smoothing over his tawny back – so long ago, it felt like another lifetime.

_He'd been gone almost all of their first Valentine's Day, stuck in meetings with his manager and people from his record label. Lita didn't mind at all, not being particularly sentimental in that way, but he impulsively showed up at her door at 1:30am anyway, bursting in with a luxuriant bouquet of blushing roses, kissing her nearly breathless before she could even manage a hello. When Nikolas finally broke away, she immediately saw the worry in his eyes, and almost laughed out loud._

"_I'm so sorry."_

"_It's fine."_

"_No, I mean it – I fucked up."_

_Lita silently guided him to a chair by the low embers and eased her hands over his stiff shoulders, massaging away the strain she felt there. They maintained a companionable silence for a few minutes before Nik turned in his seat and took her hands to crush them against his kiss, breath tattooing her sensitive skin (smelling of cloves and espresso _she remembered irrelevantly). _His slow grin against Lita's tingling fingertips was…naughty, to say the least._

"_Can I at least make it up to you?"_

_He did._

_"I should fuck up Valentine's Day more often," he laughed the morning after when she brought him breakfast in bed. They lay tangled in her sea-green sheets, trying to keep Nutella and croissant flakes off the pillows. Lita made a mean espresso, and she had difficulty hiding her supremely smug expression as Nikolas downed it in seconds and then eyed the little demitasse with suspicious surprise. "What did you put in here, heroin?" he demanded._

_Lita shrugged, lashes demurely downcast to conceal her pride. "I hope you're full?"_

"_No," he said softly, promisingly. "No, I'm still hungry."_

_He pushed aside the discarded lingerie, the dainty porcelain breakfast tray, handsome face intent. Lita readily met his embrace in the middle of the bed, bottle-glass irises sparking, shoving at his chest so that he landed with a soft thump on his back. Nikolas did not protest, watching her with heavy-lidded eyes. She lavished him with kisses, lower and lower; finally wrapping her lips around him, smugly feeling his palm heavy on her head and fingers brutally twining her curls. A particularly clever twist of Lita's tongue made him hiss and yank too hard, but she ignored it and took him deeper. On the verge of explosion, Nik dragged Lita up by the hair just in time. His other hand grasped a handful of her lushly curved bottom as he firmly guided her onto him, slid home, felt her helplessly shudder around his length. "I'm supposed to be making it up to you, remember," he told her, closer to a growl, and her low, husky moan was his answer._

Lita shivered with elated recollection. _We ate nothing but Thai takeout in bed that day, it took him so long to "make it up to me." _She'd always thought of musicians and artists as rather Machiavellian in their self-absorption – _(see Mina)_, she thought with an indelicate snort – but since they'd met, Nik never failed to surprise her with his constant, spontaneous, and uninhibited generosity. Lita suspected she'd been lucky enough to find the only flesh-and-blood man as medievally, recklessly romantic as those that had populated her teenage-era romance novels, not to mention fantasies._ I hope Ami's enjoying all those old Harlequins...okay, come on, come on, Lita, focus._ Allowing the vivid memory to fade with the last notes of the song humming through the speakers, she folded in the brandy-soaked mixture, savoring the salty-sweet smell of the dough before it was drowned in, _well, mostly booze._

She checked the microwave clock, fully alert now. They'd be late, but it didn't matter. They were always legendarily late, sometimes for good reason. _And sometimes not,_ she laughed knowingly to herself. Their friends knew this. What do you expect from these useless artsy types, bakers, music makers, Jacen always teased. Then again, he and Rei didn't have enough creativity to half-ass a stick figure between the two of them. She'd bring Mina a cupcake or ten to make up for their tardiness, and all would be forgiven.

Lita's adroit fingers quickly spread the slightly oozing mixture throughout an aluminum pan, and she slid the fruitcake into the preheated oven. Finally finished with the last of her evening's work, she inhaled deeply and turned to meet the familiar eyes that had been searing twin holes into her spine for a good five minutes now.

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She faced her husband, who leaned indolently against the opposite wall, his stare totally unabashed, hot on hers.

They stayed put for a few moments. The only noise in the room was the click of the record player needle, and it seemed deafening.

Lita tried to slow the rise and fall of her chest, to conceal the reddening of her creamy skin. It was futile. She knew her efforts hid nothing from his frank, fully aware gaze, and so Lita very deliberately turned her back to her husband and started to clean up, gathering mixing bowls to put in the dishwasher. She was surprised her husband had managed to keep quiet so long - Nikolas was not, and never would be, a man of stillness.

Her ears pricked up slightly, waiting and wanting to hear a sound from his direction.

Sinatra eased his way into the silence, dreaming of his white Christmas.

After a seeming eternity, Nik uncurled himself from the far wall and advanced toward his wife, softly as a panther. His hands settled firmly on either side of her neck, and Lita let her auburn head fall slightly back with a sigh. Nikolas noted, as always, that his tan seemed darker against her lightly freckled skin. Tiny goosebumps scattered all over, and he yearned to nip at each one.

One finger dipped lower, fingering the zipper of her dress. He made to pull it up.

"Don't." The word came out on a _whoosh_ of breath.

Lita twisted slowly into his arms. His hands cupped her bottom and reflexively tightened, hauling his wife up against him as he saw the naked desire written plainly on her face. Nik felt his heart slam into his ribcage almost painfully. She stood on the tips of her toes, tall even without heels, her lips just touching his temple. Her husband bent slightly to hear her words, already planting fevered kisses in her fiery hair. He knew what she had to tell him.

"What do you think of just…staying in tonight?"

The zipper was decisively tugged down.

Nikolas let his palms drag over those creamy shoulders, rich fabric crushing pleasantly in his grasp. Down over her arms, skimming her hips, until Lita was able to step out of her dress completely. Underneath, nothing graced her skin but a bare scrap of cloth and matching lace hose that hugged her thighs. Her breasts spilled over overburdened demi-cups, straining magnificently against the silk.

_I see garters, but if my guess is right…_Nik could swear he almost tasted her, like ozone in the scarce air between them, felt her velvet wet against his rough tongue. He immediately dropped to his knees before her, not-so-gently shoving his wife back against the kitchen counter, mouth already watering before her throaty little sound of mixed apprehension and eagerness.

_Thought so. No panties._

Lita gripped the squeaking faucet with one hand and the refrigerator door with the other, arms shaking with the effort of holding herself up. Her knees felt like dough, and the more she concentrated on his supple mouth, wet on wet, the less her legs served her. Nikolas flattened his hands against her thighs for leverage, steadying her some, but if he didn't stop…

"Don't," she found her voice. "N – Nik! It's – it's – too soon – "

"It's not too soon." His decisive murmur, right up against her heat, nearly undid her.

In a few moments, Nik felt the telltale tremble start in her thighs, the warmth of her sweeter than anything she could make with her hands. He stood swiftly, before she could react, and hoisted Lita onto the counter in the same motion. His wife's interminably long legs locked familiarly around his hips, and she ground herself mercilessly into him, both seeking her release and urging his on.

Lita grabbed haphazard handfuls of his shirt, nearly yanking him onto the counter with her – Nik's right hand freed himself from his pants, not bothering to drop them, while his left crushed against her full breast – ruthlessly tweaked the hard peak – her mouth tasted of brandy – his, of her chocolate and her salt.

The record player carried on, oblivious to its unhearing audience.

_Baby, it's cold outside…_

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	3. Seduction: Bubbles

Ami and Zoi. Not a couple I have a lot of experience writing, so I hope I do them justice!

**Seduction: Part #2 – Bubbles**

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6:30pm. He was already late. _I should just _not_ hold these bloody office hours. It's not as though that many students come by to discuss Petrine Russian literature with me, or something. And if they do, God help them. _

Zachary shook the wet from his red-gold curls as he made his way into their bedroom. Apple-colored eyes scanned the darkened space. Not a soul.

Shrugging, he tugged his shirt over his head, careful to avoid catching his piercings. Once in their closet, Zach chose his attire with care. Tonight was going to be a fun one. "_Zach, I need you and maybe Jacen to come flirt with me and make him jealous so he doesn't hide in a corner all night," Mina only half-jokingly pouted at him. He laughed. "So what the fuck do you need Jacen for? He's too pussywhipped to make anyone jealous."_ Zach couldn't wait to see the long-suffering Kenneth trying to make small talk with Mina's theatre buddies. Of course, he had a hunch Mina's husband would make good on his threat to simply hide in his office until it was all over, anyway.

_Splash!_

He froze, halfway into another shirt, straining his ears to hear the sound again. Ah – the faintest of splashes, coming from the adjacent bathroom. Again, and not bothering with his buttons, Zachary made his way toward it…

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Ami leaned back in the clawfoot tub, the heady vapor smelling of apples and clinging to her eyelashes and white shoulders. One slender hand reached for a small, nondescript book stacked above several imposing tomes, the other grasping for a half-empty flute of champagne.

She made a small sound of complaint as her head hit the back of the tub for the seventh time – and for the seventh time, Ami wished for her husband's beautifully long, talented fingers at her nape, deftly massaging away the ever-present tension – the product of 80-hour weeks in residency. Ami could almost feel his distracting sigh cooling her damp skin, hear him whisper in exhaustive detail what else he could do with those fingers, trailing blunt nails knowingly over her gooseflesh…

"_I wish you'd play an instrument," Ami said plaintively. She dropped into the seat opposite his desk, watching him efficiently mark up papers. "It's just wrong that _those_ hands are grading honors theses, while Nikolas…is off doing musician-y things with his."_

_Zach didn't look up. "Do you often think about Nik's hands?"_

_She colored. "No! I just – I just think you'd be good at it – music…long fingers and all…and, you know, all the – the piercings, and the accent." Ami was deeply uncertain as to what might come out of her mouth next. "I mean, come on, British people – it's so unfair. Half your students are already in love with you because of it."_

_Now he did pause, putting his pen down. She felt his assessing gaze, heard the chair creak as he leaned back. "Ami, how much did you have to drink?"_

"_Not much," her tone breezy. "Just a few glasses of chardonnay – what? It was a party for _you!_ You're a tenured professor now!" Flinging her hands expansively into the air, Ami stood and walked around the desk. She noted with irritation how her husband's lips were slightly upturned, as though he was fighting the urge to laugh and losing, badly. He was never very good at concealing any sort of feeling, particularly from his observant wife. So Zach thought she was funny. Fine. She was just going to have to be more direct._

_Ami grabbed the chair's arm, turning his seat on its wheeled axis to face her. He gazed up at her challengingly, amusement plain on his face. Without further ado, Ami unceremoniously plopped herself in his lap. The chair squeaked in protest._

_Startled, Zach swallowed his laughter and sat up straight, balancing the petite woman in his arms. She twisted slightly to face him, twining his neck in the crook of her elbow, the other hand playing with the closure of his dress shirt. Apparently, Ami meant business. _

"_Do you really have to grade someone's paper right this second?" she entreated softly._

_Those impossibly blue eyes practically nailed him to his seat. Zach honestly didn't know sometimes whether his wife was trying to be seductive or not, but God help him if she didn't succeed brilliantly every single time._

_The intrepid hand on his chest was already a touch bolder, having undone two mother-of-pearl buttons without his noticing. He closed his hand over her smaller one, immediately halting its movement. Zach stared into Ami's eyes, fascinated by their seeming innocence._

"_Well," her voice broke his near-trance, a little petulant, "do you have to?"_

"_No, darling," he said. "I don't have to."_

_And then his hand was under her skirt, pushing already-soaked cotton panties aside, dragging two fingers tauntingly top to bottom – waiting for her impatient mewl – before sliding in to the knuckle. Zach also meant business. As she tried desperately to keep quiet for his colleagues' sakes, muffling her whimpers in his neck, Ami was glad she'd chosen the direct approach._

_Long after, they leaned against the bookshelves in his dingy university office, and Zach lazily ran his fingers through her silky cap of hair. "You're a little devil," he said tiredly._

"_Me? I'm not the one who – who – well. You know," Ami said, with the prim air of one violated._

_Zach laughed and tilted up Ami's chin to look her dead in the eye. "You _said_ you wanted me to play an instrument." A pause._

"_And you were right. I _am_ good at it." _

A rush of blood to her dimpling cheeks accompanied the errant memory, a flush that didn't abate when she read the title of the book in her hands. _The Luscious Sin of You, huh?_

_Where is Zach, anyway?_ He'd told her specifically that he did _not_ want to miss this party, as Mina had told both of them she'd had a hell of a time convincing Kenneth to allow "a bunch of dirty hipster sleazebags" into his home at all. Zach gleefully identified with the latter, despite his professorial vocation – and really, teaching Russian Literature was more like teaching Drama than anything else.

"I'm dying to watch Kenneth interact with, you know, plebeians," he'd told Ami wickedly. "Not his usual Stanford set." She would be forever mystified by Zach's need to "stir shit up just to watch it hit the fan," as he eloquently put it.

Shrugging as she always did at her husband's unorthodox uses of his brilliance, Ami settled down to read.

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Zach exhaled very slowly, gaze fixed on his artless siren as she scanned the cover quickly. Bit her lower lip pink in fierce concentration. He almost laughed. When they'd first married, she'd employed that same deliberation when doing anything of the least importance. Oh, yes, she'd leapt from bed to hang up their discarded clothes, absolutely refusing to indulge in anything resembling an afterglow. After he had threatened to physically restrain her, Ami now deigned to cuddle. He rather thought she liked it.

_And now look at this wanton little mermaid knocking back champagne in the tub and – hrm. What's she reading?_

Zach stepped onto the slick tile, knowing that she wouldn't notice him through all the steam. Silently, he crouched by the bath, waiting. One dimpled white leg arched from the water, briefly covered in dripping foam, to rest on the marbled edge.

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Ami felt for her champagne, wanting the sparkling warmth of it to counteract her sudden goosebumps. Not there.

She looked up from a particularly steamy scene in the book – the one she always shamelessly skipped the other chapters to get to – and found her husband leaning over the tub's edge, one hand slowly trailing in the bubbles, the other bringing her drink to his lips.

His lashes sparkled with minute droplets of condensing vapor, heavy over lidded irises. Zachary's gaze flickered down to her shape, ghosted in the hazy water, before returning oh-so-chastely to her eyes.

Ami smiled and rose from the bath. She leaned forward to find his lips with hers, one foam-covered hand emerging from the water to tangle in his curls. He abandoned the drink to encircle her shoulders, pulling her into him. The flute tipped into the water, and the remaining champagne bubbled up playfully against Ami's skin.

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She barely noticed when Zach reached down to pluck the book from between them. He gently broke away, pulling back to examine the cover. Too late, Ami tried desperately to snatch it back. He swiftly stood so that it was high above her reach, mouthing the words of the title in bewilderment. She blushed furiously as her husband began to chuckle, at first softly, and then filling the room.

"The Luscious Sin of You?" Zachary bit off his words precisely, a remnant of his mellowing British accent. "What exactly is this, darling?"

"It's not what you think – "

"One of those trashy romances, like they've got at the pharmacy – " He flipped to the inside cover, already knowing what he'd see. A brawny man in breeches, fondling the swelling bosoms of a woman whose eyes were shut in strangely agonized ecstasy.

"…it is what you think," Ami concluded gloomily, reaching out a hand. "Now give it back."

Zach grinned hugely. "No way. This looks like a…ah, refreshing change of pace from the kind of literature I routinely subject myself to. It's not even in Russian! It'll be like vacation for my eyes. Let's read some of it together, shall we?" Her mouth dropped open in horror, and he fought an intense urge to just… _Fuck it. Mina has plenty of guests she can make eyes at. And Kenneth…well, fuck Kenneth._

"Zach, _please_ – "

"Where were we?" He flipped to a thoroughly dog-eared page. Zach cleared his throat theatrically, massively enjoying the way her eyes narrowed like chips of sapphire. He assumed the plummiest, BBC-hack enunciation he could manage without wanting to hurt himself, and began.

" 'You are in needs of some thrashing!' 'If you lay one hand of my bottom…' Leyla could not help but feel a bit excited at the thought of Lord Blackton seeing under her skirts, but she was frightened as well, by the darkness of his chiseled features…"

His eyes mock-widened at the next salacious paragraph. "Oh, I don't think this is fit for our ears. At least now I know what you read when you're tired of Mayo Clinic Cardiology and Moliere."

Zach let drop the novel, much like he would a dead rodent, and Ami immediately snatched it midair and hugged it to her chest defensively. He nodded to the rest of the book pile. "Isn't that my copy of Tartuffe?" The clock tolled seven-o'-clock behind him.

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Zachary's glittering gaze met Ami's own. Oh, his wife was angry now. The tip of her pink tongue moistened her lips, and he knew he was in for it. Actually, he was rather indecently looking forward to some good, old-fashioned Ami-spluttering, just so he could effectively silence it.

Ami for the life of her couldn't think of a clever word to say. She was never good with embarrassment, not even with her husband, and she really had to wonder where the hell all her brains went just when she needed them most. God, he looked _so_ good, mist from the bath cleaving his shirt to his sinewy abdomen. The silvered hoops lining the whole of his ear glistened dimly, and Ami thought about the matching one in his tongue and immediately squeezed her thighs together. She choked down a slightly buzzed giggle; with his shirt open like that, Zach didn't look so far from a romance novel cover himself, possibly something for the hot-for-teacher set. God forbid she tell her narcissistic husband that he should give up professorship for a soft-focus, mostly shirtless modeling career…although…she eyed the sizeable bulge in his pants with a tiny smirk that nobody – not even her closest friends – but Zach, knew Ami could make. _That equipment is definitely novel-worthy._

Ami dragged her gaze back up to his eyes, fascinated as always by their uncommon color, shaded as they were by curling wisps of copper. She was tempted to blame the champagne. Despite her irritation, she wanted to drag him underwater and blow bubbles against his mouth, wanted to wrap her lips around him, press her tongue against the tip just a touch harder than he liked, hear him gasp out her name as he…

_Idea._

Zach observed a confusing series of expressions flit over his wife's heart-shaped face, and was briefly alarmed as Ami not-so-covertly leered at him. He must have been mistaken, though, because a moment later she smiled up at him, relaxed. "No, I bought my own copy. Your Tartuffe is falling apart. Would you mind changing out that wet shirt? We have to leave soon, I think."

This was not what Zach had hoped for. He shrugged, a little disappointed that Ami hadn't bodily flung herself at him in humiliated outrage…or something…but there was always later tonight.

Ami waved a negligent hand, clearly indicating that he leave. Zachary turned to make his way toward the door.

Her leg shot out and hooked around his, yanking him back. As expected, Zach stumbled, the backs of his calves hitting the edge of the tub, and he fell in. A veritable tide of water erupted from the bath, but its inhabitants couldn't have possibly cared less. He rained long, investigative kisses upon her mouth, which she returned with equal ardor, tasting the bite of champagne on each others' tongues. The buttons of his shirt scraped against her breasts, his fingertips unerringly circling the place that drove her mad, and she threw her head back, belatedly hoping that her skull didn't hit the back of the tub like it always did. She felt Zach's other hand suddenly behind her head, cushioning it, and her own need astonished her with its urgency, making her gasp wetly against his collarbone.

The feel of his fully clothed body pressed against her complete nudity was, she had to admit, incredibly erotic, but Ami had a strong preference for bare skin. She shoved his sopping wet shirt off his shoulders, impatient, but Zach grabbed her hands and pushed them high above her head. He wedged his knee carefully between her thighs, mostly immobilizing her. She twisted a little bit, more confused than alarmed, but ceased her squirming as he drawled:

"What's your hurry, darling? You know we're not going anywhere tonight."

Ami stared up at him. "Ah…we're not?"

"Not," Zach enunciated, his accent deepening a touch, evidence of his arousal. As if Ami needed evidence beyond the hardness pressed against her stomach.

He leaned close, so that their lashes nearly touched. "I was thinking we should take some inspiration from good old Leyla and Lord Blackthorn…I mean, just that scene could really…take me the whole night...to perfect." The last was breathed against her foam-tipped earlobe, which he nipped at decisively. She jerked her wrists from his grasp and encircled him with both hands, smiling at his groan in her hair.

"Oh, no, I really think," Ami murmured with her last string of coherent thought, "that we can…ah…improve on their source material."

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	4. Seduction: Workout

NOW we're talking. *ahem* It's no big secret if you look at my other fics that Rei and Jade are my fav, so I hope you guys enjoy this one. And speaking of other fics, shameless plug: check out my most recent one, **Heart's a Mess.**

**Seduction: Part #3 - Workout**

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Rei lunged forward, landing one swift punch, then another. Her hands moved in a blur of white too quick to match, and she eyed her defeated adversary with satisfaction, a fine sheen of sweat cooling her heated flesh. It had been a while since she'd practiced, but Rei had some serious…frustration to work out of her system, and she was glad her skills were still sharp. She padded over to the bench by the squat rack, toweling off as she took a deep swig of ice water.

His rich tenor rang out from the door. "Need an opponent?"

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Jacen hated the way his office looked at seven in the morning, particularly when he'd been there all night.

Last night, he'd come home just after dawn, kept at the office with work that his client abroad wouldn't let him put off. The past few weeks as a newly made partner, filled with unexpected travel and impossible deadlines…had been brutal. _My first weekend off in…God knows how long?_

He'd grabbed pajama pants at random and slipped under the covers. Only to find his wife agonizingly naked beneath them, and mostly curled up on his side of the bed to make matters worse.

It was not an unusual occurrence; far from it. Rei always slept in the nude, stubbornly avowing that she didn't do it for his benefit, that she'd always slept like this, long before they'd met. He didn't believe her. _In fact,_ Jacen thought, staring blearily at those delicious curves, those enticing crevices, _I think she probably has a good laugh to herself every night before she falls asleep, knowing I'm going to come back from work exhausted. Yet unable to sleep, thanks to my newly acquired blue balls._

Jacen had attempted to nudge Rei back to her side without waking her – and for his own sanity, without looking or touching too much. Predictably, his contrarian didn't move far, comfortably occupying the middle of their enormous California king. One long leg draped over his, and she made a soft, satisfied sound in her slumber.

Somehow, he'd still managed to sleep last night – succumbing to the strain of too many all-nighters. Jacen dreamed of happier times, wherein he came home around 9pm every evening and made Rei forget her name and scream his instead. More than once.

Had it really been – what, nearly a month since they last made love?

_Rei fell on her back, gasping for breath, slicking wet hair off her forehead. Her sudden laugh echoed cleanly in the wood and glass-domed room, and she knew he was studying her, sticky and reddened as she was._

"_Had enough?" came his cocky inquiry. Jacen reached from where he lay on his side to tuck a disobedient strand behind her ear. He didn't look much better, the taut lines of his chest and abdomen glistening, golden hair darkened with moisture._

_She shook her head. "No. I want more."_

_He didn't look surprised in the least, his smirk widening. "Of course you do. If you're sure you're up to it…"_

"_I am," Rei said, adrenaline screaming through her veins, blocking the pain of the bruises on her arms and thighs. "Are you?" Jacen's eyes flashed steel._

_He stood and pulled her up, a little too fast. Rei stumbled, her body pressed against his for a short, fiercely sweet moment. Jacen took her left hand in his, and his ring flashed brilliantly in the merciless July sunlight._

"_Wearing this…it's unfair," she said calmly. And Rei did see more than a few scratches, angrily red on his chest and arms…but the way his mouth thinned with displeasure, she knew her fiancé didn't care about the wounds. "I'm going to take it off. Just for now."_

"_Like hell you are."_

_She shrugged and pulled it off, placing it carefully in the bag behind her. _

_Now he backed away from her, coolly appraising. She mirrored his ready stance. Jacen's smile remained feral, but the pride in his eyes was plain as he watched her lunge at him, her form perfect, light on her feet as a dancer._

"_Let's go."_

The sun was already red on the horizon as Jacen woke. He stretched widely, joints popping. Thought offhandedly about checking his Blackberry, and then thought again. The smell of her incense and lilies on his pillow instantly reminded him of his dream. He wished it could have continued for another minute or two, for Jacen vividly recalled the outcome of that long-ago match.

_Jacen dropped her to the ground with a low kick, and then stood directly over her, grimly noting her mutinous glare. Provoking woman. He knelt, something sparkling in his grasp, and gently took her wrist. Rei watched quietly as he slowly slid the ring back onto her finger, her fiancé's normally roguish expression replaced by something rather frightening in its intensity._

"_You're mine." Jacen brought her left hand up, directly into her line of vision, and Rei was mesmerized by the diamond's peerless fire. "Mine," he repeated simply. "With this or without it."_

Tossing the sheets aside, he realized that the house was…strangely quiet. _Maybe she had class? Didn't think MBA students swung Saturdays…_ Pausing by the garage, Jacen was surprised to suddenly hear the rhythmic thud-thud of somebody pummeling the punching bag in the studio outside.

They had built it a few years ago so that they could spar at home. Already putting in long hours at the office, he needed a physical and mental outlet. The martial arts had been his passion since he was a boy. Jacen could say without any modesty that he was good. He always regretted that he didn't have time to pursue it more seriously as an adult. It was convenient, then, that Rei wanted to learn, and he was constantly impressed by how fast she picked it up.

Jacen wandered out into a near-blizzard, belatedly realizing he should have brought a jacket. He could hear Rei in there, though, and curiosity drove him forward. She usually spent Saturdays curled up in bed with him, poring over a case study...not practicing her punches.

The image of his wife, clad in nothing but a sports bra, indecently short shorts, and boxing gloves would probably be forever burned into his memory.

Dry-mouthed, he watched Rei jab in staccato rhythm, short gasps audible with each hit. The lithe muscles of her arms tensed and loosened intriguingly. Her black mane swung just above her taut rear, tied up carelessly at the crown of her head. Jacen's eyes strayed admiringly downwards, skimming the rounded curves of her thighs and calves, all the way to her bouncing feet. Rei finished off her imaginary opponent in two quick strokes before she turned to the bench, near the rest of their gym equipment. Her husband swallowed in sudden thirst as she threw her head back to drink, the long arch of her throat visible for his inspection. He thought briefly, pruriently, of the flavor of Rei's sweat - and called out.

…

Rei turned swiftly, the bottle still at her lips. There he was, striding into the room like a contemptuous god, fierce blue stare and mocking smile in sharp contrast. Dark eyes traveled with serene approval over his bare torso; he wore nothing but the dark silk pajamas she'd got him last year. Black was all too appropriate. Color did injustice to his tawny flesh, blond halo still mussed from sleep…Rei cleared her throat.

"Don't you think we'll end up late for Mina's party…?" she trailed off at the predatory glint in his eye. _God, it's been so long since we…punching the shit out of this poor bag all morning definitely did _not_ take the edge off._

"I could do with more practice, I suppose," her voice gone husky.

Stopping just a few inches before her, Jacen took her hands in his own, pulling off the boxing gloves with agonizing slowness. Rei shivered slightly as his bare fingers scraped across her palms. The room was unnaturally quiet until the mitts and bottle fell to the bench with a soft thwack, forgotten.

They backed onto the open floor.

Rei circled first, devouring the sight of his muscles bunching slowly in his biceps. Jacen maintained his relaxed position, not bothering to look at her. He knew it would irritate Rei. She nearly made a full circle, mouth tight with displeasure, before she leapt at him. He knocked her small fist away easily, and they now fought in earnest.

"Don't give me that look," Jacen said evenly, trying to keep his gaze above her neck. The task was more difficult than he would have hoped. _Thank God she never used to train in a sports bra. I think I'd lose. A lot. _"You make mistakes when you're annoyed. Come on, Rei." The barrage of blows lessened immediately.

"Right," Rei gasped, backing off. He pushed his advantage, refusing to let up. Jacen was fresh, and she'd been practicing in here for hours, _trying to take the edge off a near-month of celibacy,_ some little voice laughed at her, and she flushed. His golden head loomed above, and she could feel the wall just behind her.

Her eyes darted about, frantically searching for an opening. Seeing a blow from above coming, Rei ducked quickly beneath his arm. As she passed behind him, her hand drifted over his rear, just slowly enough for Jacen to understand it was no accident. He whirled on her, eyes like a thundercloud, but Rei had already danced away, a rare, mischievous smile lighting her features.

By now, Rei had recovered her composure; when he met her in the middle of the floor, she was prepared. They fought, exchanging blow for blow, kick for kick, both of them failing to make real contact. Rei, in particular, avoided injury; one good smack from her considerably larger husband would probably knock her out. Jacen never went easy on her, not even when she'd begun learning from him years ago, and she appreciated his respect. Rei moved with infuriating speed, although Jacen's endurance more than compensated.

"You'll pay for that little feel-up," his smile was clearly Not Nice, and his wife noticed with some worry that he still wasn't out of breath. "All this dancing around won't save you." Jacen allowed himself to shamelessly leer at her heaving chest.

"Tired?"

"_I don't think – I – can – do – this – anymore – !" Rei's words were punctuated sharply by the quickening rise and fall of her body on his. She splayed her fingers on his chest for support, but his skin was too slick to give her any traction._

"_Yes, you can," Jacen growled at her, jaw tight with exertion. It was 5am, and he needed to be at work in a matter of hours…but he had his priorities._

"_I – ah – "_

_Rei felt his hands curl around her hips, now forcibly moving her up and down, and she concentrated on his handsome features, contorted with effort. She forgot everything but that face, and the name it was attached to. That name…she was particularly fluent with tonight. Insatiable bastard._

_A few minutes later, they lay in a perspiring heap, Rei still straddling his hips, her head on his chest as he stroked her matted hair. They were too exhausted to pull apart, as intimately connected as their bodies were. At least, Rei was too exhausted._

"_Tired?"_

"_God, yes."_

"_But I'm not done with you," he said, and she felt immediately just how tired he wasn't. _

Seeing her momentarily distracted, Jacen used the opportunity to firmly grab her arm, and jerk her toward him. Rei staggered, as expected, and he spun her around so her back hit his chest, right arm barring her escape. She struggled at first, and then immediately stiffened as his other hand ghosted over her flat belly, hovering at her shorts' waistband before delving in.

"_Oh - !_" the sound was somewhere between outrage and delight.

"You looked so faraway," his words rough against her ear. "I think I can guess what you were thinking about. In fact, I know…it's all I can think about, Rei."

_That last time we made love…_

His wife didn't deny it, curiously reticent, in fact – Rei was still panting a bit, but he suspected it was for an entirely different reason. Jacen shifted slightly, his left hand gaining improved access. He was instantly rewarded with the feel of her spine arching against his abdomen, so tight it seemed she'd snap.

Complacent in victory, Jacen couldn't have seen the throw coming.

Rei jerked suddenly and felt him lose his footing. She gripped and pulled his right arm for all she was worth – threw her hips back – and flung him cleanly over her shoulder.

Jacen landed on his back with an impressive thud. Rei turned away dismissively and tugged her bra over her head. She shook out her hair, leaning her forearm against the squat rack as she worked off her shorts. Seconds later, he was behind her, his arousal insistent at the small of her back. Her husband bit her nape, hard, and Rei couldn't stifle a cry. Her hands flew to the squat rack's reassuringly solid bars, and Jacen's hips nudged her forward, the cold metal of the barbell branding her stomach.

Her husband's fingers completely covered her own as he worked demanding kisses up the side of her throat, teeth marking her jawline. Rei turned her head as best she could, given her limited range of movement, meeting his lips with a bruising kiss of her own. She felt Jacen's hands drop from hers, skimming her arms, sides, hips. One curled purposefully around her upper thigh, pulling her legs apart. The other resumed its former position, where it proceeded to make Rei gasp erratically against his lips, the sound only slightly muted.

"Scream for me." Violet eyes flew open, clashing with the wicked glint in his. "Go ahead. You know how I like it."

His wife used her newly freed hand to reach backward and take him firmly in her grasp. She enjoyed watching the arrogant look slip completely from Jacen's face. Pulled him between her legs, teasing him with her softness, her nearness. And let go.

"No, you go ahead," Rei told him, her voice like velvet.

"You know how I like it."

…

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	5. Seduction: Party Favor

Finally! We find out if Mina and Kenneth make it to their own party. I'm taking bets :P

**Seduction: Part #4 - Party Favor**

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She turned away from her reflection hurriedly, smoothing one hand over the pale chiffon that fell from her hips. The other hand held a cloud of blonde hair just above the nape of her neck, where she'd just daubed a bit of Fracas. Little wisps escaped from her fingers, and she blew at them in frustration, feeling her face and throat beginning to flush with the shower steam still present.

"Shoes, shoes," Mina muttered distractedly to no one in particular, pulling open a closet door to reveal a thousand glittery pairs. She was so late to her own party that it hardly mattered what she chose; by the time Mina went downstairs, her guests would probably be too drunk to know she had feet. Thank God the housekeeper was capably managing the crowd already in her living room, enjoying some very bloody expensive foam-topped canapés.

_Ugh. Kenneth was right – I don't know why I threw this thing. So my agent could suck up to a bunch of moneybags producers? I wish the girls were here – where are they, anyway? I told them this was important!_

Mina grabbed a winking silvered sandal at random, dropped its mate, and knelt to pick it up with her other hand, immediately releasing her hair from the intricate knot she'd failed to secure with pins. Feeling her work come undone, her eyes closed in defeat as a pale river of gold tumbled into her lap. She exhaled a shuddering breath, eyes still shut. There was absolutely no curse vile enough to express how she felt at this precise instant, and so without further ado, Mina drew back her arm and pitched one hapless sandal vaguely at the wall to her left, childishly hoping to hear the satisfying thud that would make this night better.

The sound never came.

…

Kenneth moved silently up the staircase, not wanting to attract the attention of their party guests below, particularly when he was clad in just his swim trunks. He'd thought to get in a quick workout before Mina's ridiculous party started, but it had taken longer than expected, and he'd had to sneak through the kitchen to avoid any odd looks at his attire. Wet spots bloomed on the carpet in his wake, chlorinated water dripping from his body still.

Jesus, he hated the sight of all these…theatre people in his home. So far it was just faux-method actors and the like, but the deep pockets would come later. His wife really didn't need to try to impress anyone – everyone out there loved Mina. _I wonder why,_ Kenneth's thoughts turned thunderous, remembering the way some of "the puppies", as she dismissively christened them, gaped at her.

_Good thing I'll be busy in my office, not watching a bunch of boys and old libertines leer at my wife…_

…_odd that I don't hear her voice down there._

Noting all the lamps lit in their bedroom, Kenneth paused in the doorway to take her in. Honeyed skin glistened, slightly damp from the shower still. Moisture pulled the nude chiffon tight under her breasts, fabric clinging languorously to her thighs. As he watched, Mina's hair escaped her grip and rippled over her shoulders, releasing a lush breath of heady tuberose. Kenneth's steely eyes remained inscrutable, but he found himself inhaling deeply, enjoying the memory that came with it.

"_You don't like it?" his date faltered, putting the bottle back on the dressing table. Mina never faltered, not at anyone or anything, not even the man she was bringing back to her apartment for the first time. "It's my favorite perfume. I saved up my modeling money in college and bought at least six bottles at once…"_

"_Take off your coat."_

_She did, brow furrowed slightly in confusion._

_Kenneth had pounded two very dry martinis while she'd been in the ladies' room. He sincerely hoped those martinis weren't doing the talking now._

"_Your dress."_

_Her sudden grin couldn't be described as anything but Cheshire cat-like, but before she could say a word he had Mina up against the dressing table, one arm easing her onto its glassy surface as the other knocked the bottle aside. Mina bit her lip, hard, as Kenneth's hands dragged up her short skirt, palms smoothing over skin he felt but could not see. Yet._

_Much later, he murmured into her hair, "I do like it. I like it best when it's the only thing you're wearing."_

_She giggled, shifting suggestively against him. "I certainly wouldn't be the first blonde to go to sleep in nothing but perfume."_

_His eyes darkened. "Who said anything about sleeping?"_

His wife's sudden movement jerked Kenneth from his reverie, and he automatically raised a hand to catch the spindly silver thing hurtling toward his face. He mentally gave thanks for all those years of high school and college football, before stepping into the bedroom. Mina was rising to her feet, baby blues wide with surprise, then suddenly wary. She was gearing up for yet another argument about this party, palpable stress holding her spine rigid, and in that moment Kenneth made a swift decision.

"Are you okay – I didn't see – "

He cut off her anxious babbling.

"I'm sorry I'm late – I'll be ready in five. Take your time. I'll manage your…colleagues downstairs."

She studied her husband's implacable expression with some confusion, and, Kenneth noted drily, hope anew. "But – I thought – you have work – and you hate – "

"Mina."

He covered the distance between them unhurriedly, tossing the towel around his neck aside and taking her upturned face into his hands. "This is important to you. I'll take care of it."

Mina smiled up at him, anxiety melting from her features. Unbidden, her fingertips grazed his chest, following the droplets' sedate southward path.

…

She watched her husband out of the corner of her eye as she chatted up an old co-star about a project...or something. Despite the fact that Mina had thrown this holiday party pretty much exclusively to network with others, she was having difficulty focusing on her task.

True to his word, Kenneth had emerged from the bathroom impeccably attired in a matter of minutes, icy blue cashmere molding itself to his massive frame, making his eyes glint like glaciers. She was sure he felt just about that warmly, too – she couldn't imagine what possible conversation a hedge fund manager could try to make with a dramaturg.

Mina felt a touch guilty that he was enduring this party for her, instead of retreating to his files and folders – she couldn't fathom why he'd volunteered to in the first place, but his tall, calmly imposing presence soothed her frayed nerves, reassured her that she could shine among her guests. She was grateful, and each time that Mina couldn't help but glance at Kenneth, she fantasized freely about how she might show him her gratitude.

The room was getting hotter, as more people arrived and the cocktails poured freely. Mina's eyes fell to Kenneth's forearms, where he'd pushed up his sleeves. She skittishly licked the peachy gloss off her lips for the fifth time, remembering.

_Mina let out an undignified squeak as he inelegantly propelled their bodies, her back hitting the wall with a thud. Kenneth's palms came slamming down on either side of her head an instant later. Her legs locked instinctively around his damp-shirted back, but she could feel herself sliding down precariously. Her skirt scratchily dragged against the wall, already bunched to her waist. "Kenneth," she gasped, the rhythmic force of him making it difficult to speak " – I'm slipping – "_

"_Hold onto me."_

_She gingerly wrapped her hands around his forearms, and was startled by their solidity. They didn't budge at her additional weight, not in the slightest. He gave her little time to marvel. Mina's fingernails sank painfully deep into corded muscle as Kenneth began, with wicked slowness, to move again._

"Mina?"

She shook her head minutely and took a too-large gulp of her gin tonic, trying to clear the searing image behind her eyelids. There was another man in front of her, a man she vaguely recognized as a Big Deal. "I – I'm sorry, what was that Michael?"

Her co-star looked at her askance a moment, and Mina proffered a graceful smile, hoping she hadn't completely screwed something up. "Uh, I just wanted to introduce you to Don. He was really impressed by your work in that experimental piece last year, and he's been saying he has something in mind…"

She nodded, eyes sparkling with appropriately coy interest. "I'd love to hear more."

…

Kenneth excused himself early, feeling the beginnings of a massive migraine when he thought about all the work he hadn't done yet. Pausing as he climbed the stairs to his office, he glanced at his wife, who effortlessly reigned the room. She had them eating out of the palm of her hand – not that he was surprised. It made him wonder, sometimes, how she'd picked him out of a sea of fist-pumping bankers and attorneys at that client's afterparty, how she'd decided he would be the lucky one.

_She was still staring at him, and the bartender seemed to have completely forgotten about his beer. Kenneth kept his eyes on the crumpled flyer in his hand, but after having read it five times without the foggiest idea of what it said, he gave up. "Is there a problem?"_

_The blonde looked slightly taken aback, Cupid's-bow lips falling open. "Oh! – no, I was just, just…" she reached over and flipped the flyer around. Kenneth immediately felt like an unmitigated shit. On the back, her baby blues nearly leaped off the paper, glimmering with unshed tears. Underneath the play's title, a single name was billed prominently – "Mina Agron"._

"_I just happened to see you with one, so…" she laughed, and Kenneth found himself wanting to hear the silvery sound again._

"_Of course – I'm sorry. It's been a long day," he offered, hating the trite excuse._

_She – Mina – didn't blink. "Maybe you can make it up to me, when you haven't had such a long day." The blonde tugged a pen out of her tiny, crystal-skull-headed clutch and scrawled ten digits over her pixelated cheek. She was close enough for him to smell her chewing gum, or lipgloss, or something – warm peaches. A gin tonic and Amstel materialized out of nowhere, and seizing the former, Mina was gone in a swirl of champagne hair and flashing heels._

"_Who was that?" Jacen joined him at the bar, swiping Kenneth's Amstel. "Sorry it took so long, I was looking for the trash – oh, ha, you have one too." He poked at Kenneth's flyer._

"_What?"_

"_Goddamn flyers for some play downtown. They're practically confetti-ing the place with them, and there's maybe one garbage can in the whole building."_

_Kenneth looked up and around, for the first time that night. Every single person in his visual field carried a drink in one hand and a flyer in the other._

Despite Mina's doubts about her budding theatre career, Kenneth knew from personal experience…what his wife wanted, she got. She was magnetic, as impossibly alluring on stage as she was in the flesh.

_Speaking of…_

Kenneth gritted his teeth, somewhat in need of a cold shower. He suspected a pile of Excel spreadsheets would do just as well.

Kicking off his shoes as he entered his office, Kenneth stopped behind his desk to peruse the enormous bookshelf. His fingertips brushed the correct file, and he pulled.

"Stop."

…

Mina immediately noticed her husband's premature absence and escaped the dull conversation on some pretense. Glancing down at the third gin tonic still loosely clasped in her fingers, she shrugged, downed it, and padded upstairs, the chilled glass dangling between her thumb and index finger.

The party could go on without her.

She observed him with pleasure, letting her gaze caress his powerful shoulders, sweep down to his trim hips. Kenneth's fingertips skimmed gently over the titles in the shelf until he found the one he wanted, and Mina couldn't suppress a tremor, wanting those unhurried, excruciatingly thorough fingers on her overheated flesh.

She stepped forward, locking the door behind her.

…

Kenneth turned toward her leisurely, as though he'd known she was standing there all along, but his eyes came alive with unmistakable hunger, belying his relaxed posture. The forgotten file hung slackly from his fingertips, and he waited for her to continue.

Her voice was soft, but rang with commanding steel.

"Take off your shirt."

The file dropped to the floor with a soft rustle as he pulled the cashmere over his head and faced Mina again, shaggy white-blond strands tickling his preternaturally composed features.

She let her glass fall soundlessly to the carpet, one hand reaching behind her back to tug at the hooks of her dress. Her feet moved forward of their own accord, until only Kenneth's desk waited between them. "Pants," Mina managed, feeling her fingers clumsily unhook the last fastening. Her other hand pulled her bodice down, and she saw how her husband's eyes sharpened like knives.

His gaze locking with hers, Kenneth roughly unbuckled his belt with one hand and slid it out of the loops. He would have tossed it aside, but Mina reached suddenly over his desk and wrapped her hand around the belt's other end, pulling him closer. Their breaths intermingled, hers ragged, his rapid, and their eyes simultaneously fell to the only obstacle between them – the desk. Kenneth made his second swift decision of the night.

Every object, including several heavy paperweights and books, went flying. Mina didn't bat an eye, immediately sliding onto the glossy walnut. Kenneth was suddenly above her, and she dragged his face down to hers, mouth seeking. Mina's skin prickled pleasurably at the feel of cool, lacquered wood against bare flesh; her spine arched off the desk slightly as her husband's lips strayed lower. His hands trailed languidly down her sides, dragging the silk past her hips and tossing it behind them with a casual flick of the wrist.

Kenneth's knowledge of her body was both precise and unerring, and he made devastating use of it. Mina writhed on the increasingly damp surface, trying and failing to drag his silvery head upward, to force his touch where she needed it most, but her husband would have none of her haste. Her teeth sank viciously into her knuckles as Mina smothered the escaping scream – not effectively, as Kenneth heard her muffled cry and slowed his assault, denying her release. She didn't know whether to shriek or surrender. Mina chose the latter.

Her eyes drifted shut, and he watched her lashes tremble on her cheeks with supremely male satisfaction. Outside, their guests drank and laughed and mingled, and enjoyed Kenneth and Mina's excellent hospitality late into the night.

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End file.
